


something better left unknown

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Multi, consent for all the wrong reasons, sex by proxy, vague descriptions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hera and I had a bit of a girls night last night and we got to talking and one thing led to another and, well, long story short, we figured out a way you two could have sex!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	something better left unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smilodonmeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilodonmeow/gifts).



> who wanted Eiffel/Maxwell as a proxy for Eiffel/Hera.
> 
> Warnings for rather dubious consent/consent for the wrong reasons.

The call came for him while he was lurking in the observation deck, letting Minkowski rant at him about Kepler - exactly what he could do with his stupid star charts, oddly specific comparisons to historical dictators, and more profanity than he'd heard from her in the entirety of the mission to this point.

"Officer Eiffel? Can you join us in Dr. Maxwell's office please? There's an experiment we need your assistance with."

Grimacing, he squeezed Minkowski's hand and turned to go. "God only knows what the Cyberpunk Wonder Twins want from me this time. I'll try to pop back in later, okay Commander?"

The sound of angry grumbling followed him out into the hall and he smiled very slightly. An angry, fired-up Minkowski was a Minkowski he could handle. It was when she went quiet and her eyes took on that haunted look - something that had been happening more and more of late - that he got nervous and had to fumble for his footing.

Telling himself that she'd be okay, he made his way into the part of the station that he refused to think of as the new Hephaestus. It hadn't _earned_ that designation, it had tried to _steal_ it and he resented the hell out of them for that.

He reached the hatch for Maxwell’s lab and spun it open with a sigh.

“Officer Eiffel! How nice of you to join us!” The AI specialist sounded entirely too chipper and he grimaced, thinking her level of pep to be entirely unnatural and off-putting.

“Yeah, well, Hera beckons and I come a-runnin’. What’s up ladies?”

Hera giggled, and the lack of glitching struck a chord in Eiffel’s heart. It was hideously selfish, but he missed her old voice, the one that had kept him company for so many lonely nights out here at the edge of everything. He’d gotten so used to her glitching that he’d hardly noticed it at all, until it was gone. And now he found himself irrationally hating the doctor for “fixing” his girl like there was something less-than-perfect, something _broken_ about her.

 _“But there was something broken, for months! And you - "_ Quashing that line of thought, he shook his head and forced a smile as he glanced up at the nearest camera.

“You sound like you’re in a good mood, darlin’! That definitely makes you better company than - ” He was about to say “Minkowski” but diverted himself at the last second. No sense letting the enemy know they were getting to her. “ - certain other people on this boat,” he finished lamely.

“It’s been an interesting day or so, Officer Eiffel,” Hera replied, sounding nearly as chipper as Maxwell. “We have a proposition for you. Tell him, Alana!”

Doug’s eyes widened at Hera’s casual use of Maxwell’s first name but before he could say anything, the scientist dropped a bomb on him with equal casualness.

"Hera and I had a bit of a girls night last night and we got to talking and one thing led to another and, well, long story short, we figured out a way you two could have sex!" 

"What?" Of all the things he’d thought they might need him for, this one wouldn’t have made the top 50.

(Hell, this wouldn’t have made the top _500._ )

“You! And Hera! Finally getting to have sex! Well, sort of. I was telling her about the AI girlfriend I had back in the day - college, I’m sure you know how that can be! - and how we used to use another girl as sort of a - a proxy, if you will. And it occurred to me that, duh!” Maxwell slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead and grinned. “I could do that! For you guys!” She paused then, eyeing him. “You know...if you want. Hera’s already pretty gung-ho about the idea.”

Doug closed his eyes for a moment, mind racing. _This wasn’t..._ His head was spinning, trying to process what Maxwell was offering - offering? Was that the right word? It kind of seemed like they were pretty set on this idea and that asking him was merely a formality after presenting this to him as a fait accompli.

Add to that his general distaste for Maxwell and his...okay, he could admit it, his _jealousy_ towards her and this was an absolute recipe for disaster. Doug didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, and frankly, the fact that she could relate to his friend in ways he would never be able to _hurt_.

Nothing about this seemed healthy or right or like something that should happen.

But...this was something Hera wanted. _Hera._ His best girl, his confidant, the one who’d been the comforting voice in his ear from the broom-closet brig to the depths of hopelessly deep space.

 _She_ wanted this.

And she'd been suffering for months now and he hadn't even noticed. He sighed heavily, wearily. After all that...this was the least he could do.

Dragging his forced smile back into place, he nodded. “Sure. I’m in.”

Neither of the women noticed that the too-cheery note in his voice matched Maxwell’s to a disturbing degree. Hera started chattering excitedly, and Maxwell, smiling faintly to herself, slipped out of her lab coat and began to unbutton her shirt.

\-----

This wasn't right. He knew because he'd definitely spent more time than was healthy imagining what sex with Hera might be like.

Since he really knew _very_ little about androids, these fantasies often verged into the realm of the creatively complex or the downright silly.

But they all had one thing in common: in them, he finally got to hold his girl in his arms. The voice that had kept him company, kept him sane, kept him going when all hope was gone would be given physical form and he could finally hold her.

This was close. This was so, so close. And yet it was just wrong enough that when the light hit it just right, the cracks shone through with painful clarity.

So he shut his eyes to reality and blocked out that unforgiving light and pretended.

Focusing on Hera's voice flowing all around him, he imagined the hands guiding him were hers, that the warmth that enveloped him was hers, that any of this was really happening the way he'd dreamed.

He pretended and he lost himself in the fantasy, and when he came, the name he cried was hers, his eyes squeezed shut against the breaking of the illusion.

Dimly he heard the hatch open and close softly as Maxwell slipped out of the room, and he drew his knees up to his chest. A heavy silence reigned as he huddle there, shivering with a sudden chill, tears stinging at his eyes as the depth of the wrongness swamped him like a wave. Resting his forehead against his knees, he took a long, deep, shuddering breath, then looked around, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"H-hera?" There was no reply. "Sweetheart, talk to me."

"Doug, I - " Hera's voice faltered, cracked, and it didn't sound like her old glitching but more like a sob. "I have to go."

Eiffel lay there, heartbeat returning to normal as the tears dried on his cheeks and the echo of her voice ringing in his ears, drowning in a feeling of profound aloneness that rivaled even that of the USS Unending Nightmare.

“Eiffel?” crackled a voice from the speaker. Minkowski, no doubt wondering if he’d forgotten his promise to come back. “You still alive over there?”

Eiffel snorted, shoved the loneliness and pain down deep inside the part of himself where he stored the really unpleasant stuff, and grabbed his clothes from where they floated in the corner.

Hitting the button to respond to the commander he mumbled, “M'fine, Minkowski. On my way back. Experimental Meatbag out.”


End file.
